


Dinner

by rainbowanatomy



Category: After the Dark, The Philosophers (2013)
Genre: F/M, apparently ooc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 02:33:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6176764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowanatomy/pseuds/rainbowanatomy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eric Zimit wrote long poems.<br/>For nothing but his own enjoyment.<br/>One evening, Petra's parents invited him over for dinner without telling her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner

Eric Zimit wrote long poems.  
For nothing but his own enjoyment.  
One evening, Petra's parents invited him over for dinner without telling her.

He arrived punctually, dressed in a crisp, but casual, suit. He held a bouquet of flowers in one hand and an expensive bottle of rosé in the other.   
Her mother had told her to dress nicely, that they had a guest coming over. So she did.   
But she wasn't prepared for what she saw when she came down the stairs.  
Her philosophy teacher - her intelligent, intriguing, hot philosophy teacher - lounging on one of the living room love seats, a glass of wine in his hand, and her parents across from him, pink with laughter.   
Her own cheeks had surpassed pink, going straight to beet red as she stood there awkwardly at the bottom of the staircase. 

She tried to will away the flush. James' smile flashed repeatedly in her mind, only to be drowned out by Mr. Zimit's laughter.

"Ah, Petra! Come greet our guest," her mother cooed. Her voice scratched her throat coming up.  
"Uh... Um. Good evening, Mr. Zimit," she whispered, creeping cautiously all the way into the living room. She felt like she was on display, though his eyes didn't show any other emotion besides contentment. Still, she could've sworn they climbed her body before meeting her gaze.   
"Good evening, Ms. Petra,” he mused, "Your parents are absolute saints to open their house to me tonight for dinner.” He raised his glass towards them.  
"Oh, Eric," her mother twittered, "The least we could do for such an influential teacher!"  
Her father nodded in agreement.  
"Petra, dear," her father started, "Set the table, would you?"   
"Of course," she whispered, glad to have an excuse to turn away from her eye contact with Mr. Zimit.

This was so unlike her. The flustered feeling, the blush, everything. She gripped the utensils tightly, trying to force her thoughts away from him. _James should be here_ , she forced herself to think, the thought only to be followed by an overwhelming, _no he shouldn't be_. 

The dinner table was certainly something else, since she was seated next to him. He spoke of things similar to what he taught in class, and then trips he'd taken, and entertained the conversations of her father's business and her mother's new job, a small smile on his lips the entire time. Their knees had started touching under the table about halfway through. Neither moved away. He spoke about how wonderfully Petra was doing in class. 

"In fact, she's in the working for the first A+ in the history of my class," he finished, beaming down at her. The corners of her mouth quirked into a smile.  
"Thank you, Mr. Zimit," she rushed, taking a sip of the wine her parents had allowed her, trying to cover up the red that started to crawl up her cheeks again.  
"Please," he chuckled, "I'm off the clock. You can call me Eric.” He was still looking at her intently.  
Her eyes flicked towards him, mouth parted slightly. But words didn’t reach her tongue and she didn't respond.

Her parents asked her to clear the table and start the dishes in the dishwasher.   
"No, please, allow me," he stepped in.  
"Petra, help him," her mother nudged.   
She did as she was told, taking her own stack of dishes and utensils to the kitchen, out of sight of her parents. He was facing the sink, doing a quick rinse of the plates; the dishwasher was already opened and half full.  
"I'll help you with that," he said a moment later, turning from the faucet.   
"Oh, I-," she stammered, fingers suddenly starting to sweat. She lost grip on the stack in her hands. It happened so fast.

When did he get so close to her? Oh god, Mr. Zimit was inches away, his fingers laced over hers.  
"Careful, I wouldn't want you to lose an entire set of good China," he chuckled, eyes locked on hers.   
"Right... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."  
"Of course not! Accidents happen! Good thing this time there wasn't one, huh?" He took the plates from her hands and returned to his task. She lingered for a while, finally braving to ask why he was here,  
"Mr. Zimit?"   
"Hm?" He closed the dishwasher and turned towards her.  
"My parents... When did they invite you?"  
"I ran into your mother at the market, she recognized me immediately. Told me how I'm your favorite teacher, and that she would be delighted to have me come for dinner some time. I accepted, of course. And please. You can call me Eric."

He was so close again. She stared up at him, studying his eyes. In a daze, her tongue formed the word, "Eric." 

Eric smiled, lips swearing silent sin. "I have something else, a thanks for the evening. I hope you'll share your honest opinion with me?"   
With that, he brushed passed her, wandered into the living room and joined her parents.  
It took her a couple of minutes to regain her ability to move. It was her father's sharp tone calling her name that forced her back to reality. 

Though there was an open cushion next to him, she chose the chair that sat in between the two love seats, fearing that if she got too close to him again, she'd burst into flames. He eyed her for a moment, and she swore there was a hint of sadness and confusion there, but it quickly vanished as he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. 

"In thanks for this lovely evening, and this lovely family, I would like to share a poem I finished yesterday. It has taken me several months to tie its ends together, and I hope you enjoy it," he preluded, before clearing his throat and beginning. It seemed to stretch on, his voice, entrancing her in the world his words painted, and at each breath he took, she felt more of hers taken away. She realized she had not thought of James since the beginning of the evening. She realized she didn't care. As it ended, her parents clapped. She brushed away a couple tears she hadn't noticed in the corners of her eyes. 

"And that concludes a wonderful evening," her mother sighed.   
He finished his second glass and rose to his feet.  
"Thank you all again, so much," he said.  
"It's no trouble at all! You're always welcomed here," her father said, "Petra, show our guest out."  
There it was again, that sinful smile. She rose to wobbly legs and gestured wordlessly towards the door as he followed her.   
"What did you think?" he asked as she opened the door. She stepped out behind him, closing it to keep the bugs out.   
"It was... It was so beautiful," she whispered. 

She realized they were both just standing there, staring at each other. The blush had returned to her face.  
"Well, I best be on my way then," he murmured as she took a step closer. What was she doing? Oh god, what was she doing?  
"Yeah," she whispered, as he took a step closer. His hand touched her cheek lightly, blushing a stray tear away.  
"Is this ok?" he whispered. _James_ , she thought, overwhelmed by, _Eric_.  
"Yes," she whispered back, leaning up to meet his mouth. _Oh god, yes_.

There weren't enough words in the English language to describe their first kiss. 

Then he broke away and she settled back on her feet, staring up at him with wide eyes.  
"I should be off then," he murmured, "I'll see you Monday, Petra."   
"Eric," she whispered.  
He let go of her, she hadn't realized when he had started to hold her, and walked down the walk way to his car.  
"Oh and, Petra?" he called up towards her.   
"Yes?" she responded, maybe too eagerly.  
"You look absolutely beautiful tonight. Don't be a stranger outside of class."  
She blushed harder. He slid into his car and pulled out. She watched his car go, then watched the dark for a while longer, caught up in how fast her heart was racing.   
Oh god, what had she just done? 

She walked back into the house, gave her parents a kiss on the cheek, and went up to her room. She stumbled onto her bed and tugged the sheets around her shoulders, turning on her side to look at the picture of her and James on her nightstand. It wasn't a very old picture; even now they still hadn't even been together a full year yet. But it was a cute picture, of them at the beach. She was grinning at the camera, and James was looking at her, with puzzled wonder. She touched the frame softly. There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," she murmured, getting to her feet, ready to change into pajamas and sleep.   
"Eric left this for you," her mother said, sailing into the room, handing her a folded piece of paper, "Said he was honored at how much it touched you and wanted me to pass it on."   
"Oh." She ran her thumb over the paper's sharp corners.  
"You're gonna have an amazing senior year, honey, especially with a teacher like that. Rest up, Petra, dear." Her mother kissed her cheek and sailed out of the room. 

She changed before she picked up the poem again. The bed felt suddenly empty. She imagined him holding her. She didn't push this thought away. She unfolded the paper, reread the poem, felt her eyes tear up again. She hugged the sheet of paper to her chest, and reached a hand out to her nightstand. The picture made a thunk as she tipped it over face down.   
She was going to take him up on his words.  
Closing her eyes, her lips still tingled from the kiss.   
She fell asleep to the thought of Eric’s eyes twinkling down at her.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so this movie was crazy amazing in a way I can't explain. I immediately began to write fics for it. I apologize for any out of character actions, but I wanted to give them a cute and unlikely beginning. R/R appreciated <3


End file.
